


Saturn

by aminami



Series: little star travellers [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminami/pseuds/aminami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oikawa always felt jealous of that fairy tale-like poetry that decorated Hajime’s life. Jealousy was the one thing he could never get rid of, the one feeling that would suffocate him wherever he’d turn his head. Even when he’d look up at the sky, he’d be jealous of their brightness, and then he’d think of those lucky, brave ones who got to travel among them, unseen and transcendental, and he felt small and silly in his envy."</p><p>The journey continues as other travellers join.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturn

**Author's Note:**

> The warnings from part one still apply.
> 
> This work can be very triggering for people suffering from mental illness.
> 
> While this is intended to be a sequel to "Pluto", I think it can easily be read separately. 
> 
> I'd like dedicate this story to someone very dear to me, even though I'll never let him read it. I put some of his words into Hajime's mouth and I think he'd find that very amusing. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy your journey.

 

 _But there is one extraordinary thing... When I drew the muzzle for the little prince, I forgot to add the leather strap to it. He will never have been able to fasten it on his sheep. So now I keep wondering: what is happening on his planet? Perhaps the sheep has eaten the flower..._  
  
_At one time I say to myself: "Surely not! The little prince shuts his flower under her glass globe every night, and he watches over his sheep very carefully." Then I am happy. And there is sweetness in the laughter of all the stars._

  
Antoine de Saint Exupéry, "The Little Prince".

 

* * *

 

“Do you like flowers, Tooru?”

The question felt weird. All people love flowers. Just like all people love life, no matter what they said.

And yet it was life that made Tooru hate flowers more than anything.

He remembered that one girl he was seeing back in college, asked him to bring her roses. And he said he’d give her any other flower, because she’s a beautiful girl and roses aren’t beautiful. She still got mad at him then, and they broke up soon after the incident.

Roses smelled of winter, and winter smelled of death.

Maybe Tooru didn’t like flowers with petals. They always looked so sad when they’d fall, and the fall itself was inevitable. The flowery decadence was just another sad truth of life. He remembered crying once when his mom threw away flowers she’d received from his dad, because they were no longer beautiful and full of life.

Sometimes Oikawa would randomly feel the smell of roses, and his heart would start pounding just like that day, and he would cover his mouth to prevent himself from throwing up.

“Surely, you like flowers, Tooru. Pretty boys should like flowers. If you know a thing or two about them, you can pick pretty flowers for a pretty girl, and make a pretty girl happy. Girls like flowers. Pretty flowers for a pretty girl to have a pretty life, it’s that easy.”

Flowers, rose petals, the snow under his knees. His suit was uncomfortably wet then, sticking to his legs, but the shivering didn’t come from the cold. Sometimes he’d still wake up trembling, and he recognized it to be the same shiver from that day, coming back like an echo.

It’s not that all flowers had to be associated with misery. He had a memory of bluebells shaken by the wind, and Hajime’s laugh ringing in his ears. He couldn’t smell the flowers, but he remembered the smell of summer skin, and his fingers tingled because, ah yes, they played volleyball that day, he remembered now. In lots of ways, his fingertips had the best memory. They remembered how to bend to make the best serve. They remembered how to hide their trembling when Oikawa didn’t want to show weakness. They remembered the pattern of Hajime’s hand better than his own.

Roses were Hajime’s favorite flowers, and they grew in his mother’s garden.

She was an artist, she was, Hajime would often insist, and it wasn’t an accident that nature was also a mother, because they understood each other better than anyone, and the roses that grew in Mrs. Iwaizumi’s garden were beautifully alive like in a Western painting.

There was another memory that he knew to be untrue, of him going through a field of purple flowers, lavender, violets, and irises, but how could they grow in the same place, and why all the flowers had to be purple, Tooru couldn’t say.

The flowers seemed to follow him wherever he’d go.

When his mother came to visit their flat in Tokyo, she noticed that their neighbours were fond of camellias. White and yellow, she said, they must be very sad people.

Tooru’s mother's name was Shion, which means aster. No one really thought about the flower when the name was chosen, but sometimes Tooru would bring her asters for Mother’s Day and she’d laugh and call him a smart boy.

Whenever Hajime wasn’t there, he’d think of those flowers, longing and waiting with those silent comrades. They didn’t have flowers in their own flat because Tooru had told him he was allergic, and Hajime didn’t push him, even though he knew everything there was to know about him, including the fact that he wasn’t allergic to anything.

Tooru liked the idea of outer space where no flowers grow, and people couldn’t be haunted by earthly symbolisms and omens.

If he’d suffocate there, it wouldn’t be from the smell of roses.

 

* * *

 

  
Everyone was always surprised when they’d find out that Oikawa had siblings, just like they were always surprised when Iwaizumi would tell them he was an only child.

There’s a picture in the Oikawa family’s house featuring two boys smiling to the camera. Their faces hadn’t learnt yet how to smile insincerely, and both of them looked happy as if the world they lived in was less cruel than everybody else’s.

Whenever someone would come visit the Oikawas, they’d hear that these boys were their sons, even though only one of them was related to them by blood.

Tooru often thought of that picture, and even though he’d left his family home quite some time ago, he knew his mother dusted the picture every week with particular care, and a fond smile on her face, as if love could be transmitted through inanimate objects to somebody else’s heart. And it really could, Tooru thought. Sometimes he could sense his mother’s love and for a few seconds breathing would get a little easier.

When they were little, Tooru used to say Iwaizumi was a real life prince.

Iwaizumi’s parents were already of respectful age when they had him. They were trying their whole lives to have a child, and just when they were about to lose hope, a miracle happened.

As his parents’ only child, Iwaizumi was spoiled, but he never became a pampered little prince everyone expected him to be. His parents were simple but hardworking people, and what they couldn’t provide, they’d replace with love.

Oikawa always felt jealous of that fairy tale-like poetry that decorated Hajime’s life. Jealousy was the one thing he could never get rid of, the one feeling that would suffocate him wherever he’d turn his head. Even when he’d look up at the sky, he’d be jealous of their brightness, and then he’d think of those lucky, brave ones who got to travel among them, unseen and transcendental, and he felt small and silly in his envy.

It was part of the reason he loved stars so much. Whenever he felt himself being not good enough, or he knew his actions to be wrong, he’d look up at the night sky and remember that up high, there was something pure and unspoiled. Sometimes it was enough reason to live. Whatever hurt he’d go through, he knew he had to take another step forward because it would bring him closer to the night. And it was during the night, when he’d travel, and even though the stars remained unmoving from his perspective, Iwaizumi would often say he could see them racing and dancing in his eyes, and he knew that for those short moment he’d leave the Earth to travel in far away lands.

At first, Oikawa and Iwaizumi were supposed to go to different high schools. Iwaizumi wasn’t dumb, but he lacked Oikawa’s natural ability to simply absorb information. But Iwaizumi had always been willpower personified. He worked hard and refused help unless it was something he could absolutely not comprehend on his own.

“Iwa-chan, if you want I’ll go with you to some other school…”

“Dumbass, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for myself.”

He wasn’t the best student, but in his last year of junior high, he worked really hard to get on top. All his effort paid off because he ended up getting a scholarship. And selfishly, Oikawa was glad not to be alone.

 

* * *

  

At some point in his life, Oikawa started to believe that losing was inevitable.

He knew there were some things he could absolutely not control. He couldn’t win against people with natural talent, and he couldn’t prevent his knee injury, even if Iwaizumi thought otherwise. He himself was a person who didn’t believe in impossible. Oikawa’s parents were both very rational, so naturally Tooru never believed in fate. It was his grandmother who’d often sit him down, explaining how some things are beyond us, and if one wanted to lead a peaceful life, then they could only accept things as they were. It made Oikawa feel trapped. He soon realized that the world of religion, fate, omens, social stereotypes and expectations, was slowly and effecitvely suffocating him. Hard work was the closest to being in control he could get, and in the end, he never believed that there are battles that can’t be won. He knew though that a lot of them first had to be won within one’s own mind.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t win this time.

Being eaten away by sadness was another thing in his life that seemed to be unavoidable. Oikawa felt trapped under the glass globe his mind had become, but while at first his brain was the one thing protecting him from falling apart, it was failing now, as if an enemy larger than he could possibly imagine, had found a way in.

There was a drawing on their fridge that Takeru sent him some time ago.

It was inspired by a children’s book, the one Iwaizumi liked so much. There was a rose, small and ugly, and a sheep that seemed absurdly big and awkward in comparison. To the drawing, a note was attached, written in Takeru’s sloppy handwriting.

_It won’t eat it._

Perhaps, Oikawa thought to himself, the sheep only eat the most beautiful of roses.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi was amazing in bed, and it was yet another thing that felt unfair.

Being intimate, Oikawa found, isn’t about the amount of experience we’ve had. It’s about the attention we’re willing to sacrifice to another person, and perhaps something less specified, similar to sensibility, that came from somewhere within.

It was something Oikawa felt he himself was lacking.

He wasn’t bad, he saw it in Hajime’s responses, and there was of course his own innate confidence. But when occasionally Iwaizumi would ask him to take the initiative, he found himself doubting his ability to satisfy him. There was a one time he just couldn’t get hard, and they spent the night separately then, despite Iwaizumi’s efforts to make him stay.

It happened again a few times, but then Oikawa would silently bury his head between Hajime’s legs and take care of him, hoping that it would at least make the phantom of the awkward conversation go away.

And a phantom it remained, because Iwaizumi never brought it up. He wanted to, Oikawa could feel it, and yet, he’d always give up in the end as if sensing the possible outcome.

There was something about giving up control that felt particularly scary, and yet he didn’t mind bottoming for Iwaizumi.

In particular, Oikawa loved riding him.

Perhaps, he wanted to prove his weak body that there were things he simply could not be forbidden. And he remembered the first time he climbed on Iwaizumi’s lap, lowering himself on his cock, and ignoring Iwaizumi’s protests.

“Fuck, Oikawa, your knee…”

“Fuck my fucking knee,” Oikawa snarled, starting a rhythm, and Iwaizumi gave up then, bringing their lips together, and Oikawa could only gasp as Iwaizumi’s thrusts became more forceful. They were both fighting against his body then, and Oikawa didn’t oppose when Iwaizumi flipped him over, and he let himself be fucked into the mattress with the old bed banging against the wall.

Hajime’s strength was terrifying just as much as it was comforting. But Oikawa always felt he could trust himself around him, and perhaps it made intimacy more natural.

It was easy to just close his eyes and get lost in his own world, throwing his head back and panting. He knew Iwa-chan loved watching him like this from the way his thrust would get too chaotic and slightly out of rhythm.

People often say that they are able to understand their best friends without words. And many times, after they were done, Oikawa would feel the words, the words Iwaizumi never dared to say out loud, and for that he was grateful more than anything.

 

* * *

 

It felt strange to have his body marked by someone.

The bruises were still red and only just started swelling. There was another one, right above his hipbone, that already turned purple and Oikawa rubbed his finger against it absent-mindedly.

They were like black holes against his star-freckled skin.

Sometimes he thought that becoming intimate with Hajime was just a dream. He could still feel the ghost of his kisses on his own lips, but whenever Iwaizumi left for work, Oikawa would stand in front of a mirror to inspect his body for some sort of proof. And there they were, colourful reminders that in the end, it was all very much real. It was so easy to forget.

Oikawa would get detached from the reality a lot.

He became forgetful and he saw how much it worried Hajime. It felt strange to fight against his own brain, yet, most of the time he was too tried to register what was happening around him.

Some of his memories just seemed fake and he couldn’t tell what was real anymore.

Standing there in the bathroom, he recalled their very first kiss.

There was something between them then, like a shifting energy that made Oikawa slightly nauseous, and yet wasn’t unpleasant at all. He could feel it whenever Iwaizumi would enter his personal space, which happened more and more often. He’d brush against his arm, make his hugs slightly longer than it was necessary, lean very closely when talking to him.

Suddenly touching Hajime became very awkward and it left Oikawa shivering and unsatisfied.

And in a way, they both already knew then, waiting for inevitable to happen.

It was raining that day and they both stayed at home.

They were cuddling on the couch, Oikawa nearly falling asleep while Iwaizumi was massaging his back almost absent-mindedly.

“You’ve gotten skinnier, again,” he pointed out at some point, and Oikawa couldn’t see his face, but he could almost sense that big ugly wrinkle between Hajime’s eyes.

“And you’re getting tubby, so I’m only doing my best to look great for both of us.”

“You piece of…”

“No, no, Iwa-chan, not fair, I’m sorry! Please don’t tickle me!”

It was too late, and not before long they landed on the floor, with Oikawa still trying to dodge Iwaizumi’s attacks, and eventually Hajime had to pin him to the floor with his arms to stop him from moving.

They were both panting, Oikawa still fighting off giggles, and suddenly there it was again, that strange energy that made his stomach hurt.

He couldn’t tell if Iwaizumi felt it, but there was one thing he was sure of.

 _Iwa-chan won’t ever kiss me first_ , Oikawa decided before pressing his lips against Iwaizumi’s.

He looked into the mirror and his reflection gave him a long, tired look, and he sighed as if expecting to see somebody else.

“Iwa-chan, just what is that we’re going to do?” He asked himself, not realizing he said it out loud.

“Do about what?”

Oikawa jumped. When he turned around, he saw Hajime leaning against the doorway, and eyeing him suspiciously.

“Aren’t you at work?” He mumbled nervously.

“It’s Sunday.”

“…right.”

Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows, “Why are you shirtless?”

“I was about to take a bath,” Oikawa lied. “You should join me and relax. If Iwa-chan worries so much, he’s gonna become ugly and wrinkled very soon.”

Iwaizumi continued to stare at him, but some of the tension from his shoulders had already vanished, and Oikawa allowed himself to breathe.

“I’ll still look better than you,” he scoffed. “So? Do about what?”

“My horrible hair!” Oikawa threw his hands up in faked despair, and pointed at his reflection. “Look, Hajime! It’s a complete disaster! I look homeless, my reputation is stained!”

Hajime blinked, “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it! I look absolutely atrocious!”

Iwaizumi shook his head and sighed, looking like he just gave up on something.

“You scared me, idiot,” he said as he came closer, to inspect Oikawa’s bedhead. “I thought it was something serious.”

He took one of Oikawa’s stray locks between his two fingers, and tucked it gently behind his ear.

“It is getting slightly long,” he muttered. “It looks better now that you’re not styling it anymore, though. I like you like that.”

It was funny how easily Hajime was able to miss all the hints. He couldn’t know how much it terrified Tooru that he wasn’t able to care about stuff like that anymore. How he felt that everybody was watching him whenever he left the house. He couldn’t know the fear that everyone saw the bags under his eyes, his messy hair, the way he was still limping when putting too much weight on his leg. His body was there telling the pathetic story of his life to every stranger on the street, and it killed him.

Still, he blamed himself for expecting Iwaizumi to be as observant as he was.

Iwa-chan looked at him expectantly, and Oikawa wanted to answer but was he interrupted by a sudden sharp pain in his knee. He didn’t make a noise, but it most likely showed on his face, because Hajime’s eyebrows furrowed immediately.

“What’s wrong? Your knee hurts?”

Oikawa hesitated and nearly shook his head no. Nearly.

He bit his lip, “Yes.”

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything and helped him sit down on the edge of the bathtub, but the pain was already gone.

Oikawa was avoiding Iwaizumi’s gaze on purpose, and he only allowed himself to look when Iwaizumi kneeled in front of him, gently touching his knee with just the tip of his fingers.

“It shouldn’t hurt, should it?” He murmured.

“The doctor said it might act up from time to time… I’m sure it’s nothing…”

“It’s the rain.”

“Pardon?”

Iwaizumi smiled gently.

“My father used to say that,” he explained, gently rubbing Oikawa’s skin. “Old injuries start hurting during bad weather.”

“That sounds ridi…”

Whatever it was Oikawa wanted to say, he never got to finish it. He stared as Iwaizumi started to kiss his knee, first barely brushing his lips against Oikawa’s skin and then licking, going up and up, right where his shorts ended and he bit him, effectively making him yelp. Iwaizumi smiled and sucked on the skin there, in a way Oikawa knew would leave a mark. 

“Iwa-chan, I’m…” He began weakly.

“Yeah?”

Not now.

“Bedroom.”

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything and soon Oikawa’s shorts were on the floor, along with the rest of his clothes.

It was easy to allow it, in fact, it was the easiest thing he could possibly do. He wanted Hajime just as much as Hajime wanted him, so all it took was to expose his neck to Hajime’s kisses, and close his eyes giving in to his own body. He could go crazy sometimes from the way Iwaizumi was kissing every inch of him, and he knew he was already addicted to the feeling of Iwaizumi near him, inside of him, around him, as he was slowly becoming a part of Oikawa’s personal space.

Being with Iwaizumi was so effortless that most of the time Oikawa allowed himself not to think. But there was a part of him that knew it to be wrong. Tooru was many things, but he’d never been a coward. And yet, that new, ugly side of him made him want to run away and never come back. And so he did, escaping into Hajime’s arms, whispering encouragements into his ear.

It was only later that the thoughts would come back.

He was lying next to Iwaizumi, with his heart still pounding, nearly loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

“Is this when I say ‘Ah, Iwa-chan, you rocked my world’ as you slowly light a cigarette with a satisfied grin on your face?” He asked innocently.

“I don’t smoke, idiot,” Iwaizumi punched his arm gently and Oikawa pretended to be in pain. Iwa-chan went silent for a second and when he spoke again, his voice seemed slightly far away.

“And didn’t I?

“Hm?”

“Rock your world?”

Oikawa straddled him and Iwaizumi pushed his hair back to see him better. He took Hajime’s hand then, and kissed the inside of his palm, and then he let it rest on his cheek. They were both spent, but Oikawa rubbed his cock against Iwaizumi’s anyway, and Iwaizumi groaned, putting his hands on Oikawa’s hips to stop him from moving. Oikawa bit his lip but gave up, and settled on resting his head on Iwaizumi’s chest. He wanted to get hard again just to avoid having conversation, but it didn’t seem possible.

“You absolutely did,” he admitted against Hajime’s skin.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Iwa-chan.”

“If you’re going to be a brat…” Iwaizumi began.

“I’m just kidding, Iwa-chan. You know you can ask me anything.”

It took Iwaizumi a few minutes to gather his thoughts and Oikawa didn’t interrupt him.

“What was…” He began eventually. “What was your first impression after we… You know.”

“Iwa-chan is being cute.”

“I’m serious, dumbass.”

“Hm,” Oikawa pretended to think hard about it. “I guess that sleeping naked feels weird.”

He expected another smack, but his remark actually made Iwaizumi chuckle and Tooru smiled gently.

“You’ve never slept naked with anyone before?”

Oikawa shrugged.

“Not really. It’s not like I’ve ever wanted to stick around for the morning after.”

“But now you sort of don’t have a choice?”

Awkward silences weren’t a common thing for them, and Oikawa never knew how to react to them. They were often comfortably quiet around each other, and it was only when both of them already knew what the other would say, that silence would become unbearable.

Oikawa somehow managed to hold Iwaizumi’s gaze, but in that moment, he could tell already Hajime knew.

“You’re being silly, Iwa-chan.”

It wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all, and Iwaizumi nodded in understanding.

It hurts when somebody loves you more than you love them. And it hurts even more if they’re the first ones to be fully aware of it.

 

One time after they made love, Iwaizumi got strangely quiet and when Oikawa turned his head to look at him, still trying to catch his breath, he noticed Hajime staring at the ceiling with an unreadable expression on his face.

“You know,” he says without looking at him. “I don’t care how it sounds… But I guess I need you to know…”

A pause.

“Tooru, if you were to vanish I’d surely…”

There were words said after that, but Oikawa decided not to recall them ever again. He silenced Hajime that night with kisses and strings of words that under different circumstances could be considered promises.

It’s easier to silence a living being than it is your own mind.

 

* * *

 

His therapist was a nice woman.

Middle-aged, married, exactly the type to be all over Oikawa. So he’d smile at her each time he entered the room, and he’d talk about everything but the stuff bothering him. And she listened politely, nodding from time to time, and adding her own remarks when he was lacking words. It continued for months and Oikawa’s cheeks hurt from smiling, but he couldn’t stop whatever it was he was trying to achieve.

Except, that at some point he realized she wasn’t fooled by any of it.

He wasn’t sure why he was lying to her. Maybe there was something about opening up to a stranger that didn’t exactly sit with Oikawa well. And maybe it was just the fact he didn’t know what to say, not to her, not to Hajime, not to his mother, not even to himself.

And yet, she never called him out on it. Each time near the end of the session, she’d ask a question and they’d play the same scenario every week.

“Something else on your mind?”

“No, not really.”

“I see.” A smile. “See you next week then.”

And then that one time, he just couldn’t say his usual line.

The words came spilling from him then and she listened, allowing him to let it all out. And when he was done, she stood up and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m glad you’re willing to work with me now. Thank you for trusting me.”

It still wasn’t easy. There were times when he’d fake feeling sick just to avoid going to therapy. He hated relying on others, and above all, he hated talking to someone whose job evolved around studying his weaknesses.

But sometimes it was just necessary.

“I think Hajime is scared of me,” he said someday.

“What gave you that impression?” She asked politely.

“The way he treats me, like I’m something fragile. Like I’ll fall apart if he raises his voice. Like every single thing he says is an opportunity for me to break. It bothers me, because things used to be different.”

“Different how?”

“I annoyed him a lot,” Oikawa smiled fondly to his memories. “So he’d call me names or punch me, but it was all really playful. He never hurt me, and I knew it was just a way to hide his concern. It was part of our dynamic, I guess.”

“Why do you think he changed?”

“My injury changed things,” Oikawa replied, but as he said it, he could feel himself not being fair, so he continued. “Well, I guess he changed a lot in college. We spent some time apart then. But there was also…”

The smell of roses hit his nostrils.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“I understand.”

They fell into uncomfortable silence then that, as Oikawa learnt, was just a part of therapy. He knew she wouldn’t say anything unless he continued.

“I don’t want him to be afraid, not like this,” he admitted eventually. “I don’t want him to treat me like I’m weak. I’m used to being the strongest, I’m used to being _feared_. When he acts like that it…”

He took a deep breath. The smell of roses was already gone.

“It makes what happened to me final. Like I’m never going to get better. And I know the doctors say that I won’t… But right now hope is the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

“Do you want to know my opinion?”

Oikawa nodded.

“A lot of people I’ve treated complained about changes in behaviour in their loved ones,” she began. “They tried being supportive, but in the end, it always had the opposite effect. My patients would say it was only then that they began to feel sick. Like something’s definitely wrong with them.”

“Yeah.”

“My usual advice is,” she continued. “To bring your partner to one of the sessions. There are stuff both of you need to understand about each other. I know you’re against group therapy, we’ve talked about that, but this would be just the two of you, and I really feel like your partner may need it. You have to understand, he probably doesn’t know what to expect. Sometimes the problem lies in not just the patients, but their loved ones as well.”

“I’m not sure if Iwa…”

“Talk to him about it. See what he says.”

He’d say yes and Oikawa knew that.

But there was so much stuff Oikawa had never told him about, and he knew how easily they could come up during the session. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Iwaizumi. But bringing him here as his partner, bringing up the details of Oikawa’s darkness, it was just something he couldn’t handle.

He was still thinking about it when he left the room. Hajime handed him his jacket, and said something that Oikawa didn’t register. In fact, he was so lost in thought that he bumped into some tall guy, nearly sending then both falling to the ground, but luckily, Iwaizumi was right behind him, to help him regain his balance.

“What’s with you?” He murmured.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t…” Oikawa began, but he was interrupted.

“Have you seen a kitten?” The guy asked.

Oikawa exchanged a gaze with Iwaizumi.

“A kitten,” Iwaizumi repeated.

“Yeah, you know, the animal,” he said, looking around while standing on his tiptoes, despite being ridiculously tall. “Small, kind of skittish, likes apple pie…”

“Likes…”

“Kuroo, stop telling people I’m a cat.”

The boy was small and seemed strangely familiar. Oikawa wasn’t sure whether he’d seen him around the clinic before, or whether it was somewhere else, but…

And then it hit him.

“Where were you?” The tall guy, Kuroo, asked.

“I got lost.”

“Kenma, we come here twice a week.”

The boy gave him a long stare, and Oikawa could swear the tall guy’s shoulders shrunk.

“Your point being?”

“Anyway, looks like I found my cat!” He exclaimed a bit too cheerfully, and he extended a hand. “Since I’ve already wasted your time, I’m Kuroo.”

“And his name is Shiro?” Iwaizumi suggested and Oikawa snorted.

“Actually, his name is Kenma Kozume,” he said. “Nekoma’s former setter. And this must be Nekoma’s former captain, Tetsurou Kuroo.”

“How do you know?”

“Iwa-chan, you’ve always underappreciated me,” he smiled widely, and he could swear Hajime arm twitched. “They were close to Karasuno, so I looked into them, naturally. I remember the setter, he was… interesting. I’ve never seen the captain, but I heard his hair is horrible.”

“Oi, Oikawa…”

“Oikawa, huh?” Kuroo grinned who clearly didn’t mind Oikawa’s remark. “Well, isn’t that interesting.”

He gave a fake bow.

“It’s nice to meet you, your majesty,” he said, ignoring Kenma’s sigh. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Sawamura.”

 

* * *

 

Kenma and Kuroo weren’t the first friends they’ve made in Tokyo, but soon they started seeing them more often.

They had been living together for over year, but Oikawa could tell they knew each other at least as long as he knew Iwaizumi.

“How did you guys start dating?” He asked someday.

“Kenma had nothing better to do.”

The boy didn’t say anything, focused on his game.

“…Kenma, you’re not opposing.” Oikawa chuckled.

“He said he wouldn’t leave me alone unless I agreed to give it a chance. And I wanted to live my life in peace.”

He could tell some of it was true, but then Kenma paused the game to meet Kuroo’s eyes, and the way he looked at him was so intimate that Oikawa had to look away.

Kuroo and Kenma never asked them about their relationship, and perhaps it was part of the reason why he felt comfortable around them. Iwaizumi would never hold his hand in public, since he knew it wasn’t something Oikawa would have wanted, but with them around, they showed each other slightly more affection.

Iwaizumi got along particularly well with Kuroo and that made him happy, since Iwaizumi wasn’t someone who’d let people in easily.

His own relationship with Kuroo was slightly more strained.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked someday, when Iwaizumi left to help Kenma in the kitchen. Kuroo nodded.

“How come am I the only one Kenma doesn’t call by first name?”

"He doesn't call me by my first name."

"I think we both know why."

Kuroo gave him a curious look, but he didn't comment on it. 

“He’s afraid of you,” he shrugged. “Can’t say I blame him.”

Oikawa cocked his head, “You don’t really like me, do you?”

“I’ve heard about you,” Kuroo replied. “But Kenma likes you. I trust Kenma.”

“You just said he’s afraid of me.”

“Probably because you’re both perceptive. And Kenma doesn’t like being analysed, that made the therapy really hard at first. I guess that’s why he likes me so much, I’m pretty dense.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I say something? I feel like it needs to be said at some point, so I just want to get it out of the way.”

Oikawa blinked but gestured him to continue.

“I know you care about Iwaizumi a lot. And I believe you’re a good guy, despite everything I’ve heard about you. That’s why please…”

His voice dropped then, and when he spoke again, Oikawa could feel a genuine concern, “If you don’t love him, you should let him go.”

Kuroo was definitely not as dense as he depicted himself to be.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t often that he got to talk to Kenma. When left alone, they’d usually end up playing games in silence until Kuroo or Iwaizumi came back. It’s not that they didn’t enjoy each other’s company. Strangely enough, silence with Kenma was nearly as comfortable as silence with Iwaizumi.

Their conversations were usually short and random, and it was always Oikawa that’d initiate them.

“How do you know?” He asked one day.

“Know what?”

“That he’s not gonna leave.”

“I don’t,” Kenma admitted. He put down the controller, but he didn’t look at him. Perhaps he was still afraid. “I’m scared he might. But… he’s been here for some time now. So there’s a huge possibility that he won’t.”

“Still, a possibility,” Oikawa pointed out. “That sounds…”

Kenma gave him that mysterious look of his, the one capable of shutting up even the most talkative person.

“And what else do we have left, Tooru?”

It was the first time Kenma used his first name.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t really understand people for whom being a good person is as easy as breathing.”

His therapist blinked at that, but whatever it was she thought, she didn’t say it out loud.

“You probably think it’s a horrible thing to say.”

“I actually don’t,” she smiled. “I think it’s very human. And is Hajime a good person?”

“Yes.”  
  
“But you don’t believe you are one.”

“It’s an effort,” he explained. “It always has to be a choice. I always end up thinking the bad thing first, and then it’s up to me if I change it to something nice. But being kind isn’t natural to me.”

“But even if takes effort,” she said. “It’s the outcome that counts, right? Besides, I think a lot of people feels the same way.”

“There’s a lot of bad people in this world.”

“There’s a lot of people who _think_ they’re bad, and then they decide to act like it. Usually to fulfil somebody’s expectations of them. Sometimes their own.”

“Yes, but there are a lot of people who don’t even have this initial bad thought. We’re all surrounded by evil. We’re all surrounded by ugliness. And yet some people manage to stay beautiful and pure.”

“It only means they don’t absorb those emotions. It’s just a skill that they have. But more sensitive, perceptive people become sponges. They absorb the evil and when it comes back to haunt them, they believe these bad thoughts to be their own. You’re not a bad person because you carry them within you. But it is a struggle, as you said.”

Oikawa scoffed. It seemed there was another natural talent he simply wasn’t given.

“I know it doesn’t make it better,” she admitted. “But if you believe Hajime to be such a beautiful person… Don’t you think he wouldn’t be friends with you if you were evil?”

Oikawa didn’t reply.

 

* * *

 

“Why do you like space so much?” Kenma asked him someday. It was the first time he initiated a conversation between them, and Oikawa nearly dropped his coffee mug.

“Because I don’t know what’s up there,” he said, trying to collect his thoughts. “I can’t predict what’s up there. It makes me calm.”

“I hate unpredictability.”

“But you’re observant,” Oikawa pointed out. “Aren’t you sometimes tired? When somebody says or does just exactly what you’d expect them to do? Doesn’t that make it all dull?”

“There will always be something that will manage to surprise you, Tooru.” Kenma scrunched up his nose, as a sad music played from his 3DS indicating a lost game. He sighed and briefly met Tooru’s gaze, and it was just another Kenma thing, not being able to maintain eye contact for longer than two seconds.

“Games are predictable,” Kenma said to his knees. “Fiction is full of patterns, it’s as simple as human mind that created it. But there are a lot of things, untouched by the human beings that are beyond our control. And I don’t know. Sometimes people surprise me a lot.”

Oikawa began noticing that whenever Kenma was particularly convinced he was right, he’d say he didn’t know. He just didn’t enjoy being right as much as other people.

“Does Kuroo surprise you?”

“Quite a bit,” Kenma smiled. “But I don’t actually mind when it’s him.”

“We’re going out for a smoke,” Kuroo announced, making both of them jump. “Don’t miss us too much, and don’t worry, we’re not going to find anyone cuter anyway.”

“You’re so lame, Kuroo,” Kenma mumbled.  
  
“I know.”

* * *

 

In the autumn, things began falling apart, slowly withering and dying with the rest of the world.

Iwaizumi was avoiding him, and Oikawa didn’t know how to approach it. It had never been an issue for them, so they both ended up going through the motions, living, and sleeping next to each, but not together.

Iwaizumi would come back from work late, and the little time they spent together, he was quiet until he’d suddenly announce that he promised to meet Kuroo for drinks.

And Oikawa accepted it, sharing his fears with no one but Kenma, but even Kenma wasn’t able to tell him what was wrong.

So then one day, he simply asked:

“Kuroo doesn’t smoke or drink, does he?”

Iwaizumi froze, “Oikawa…”

“I know you don’t smoke, you hate the taste. I know quite a lot about you, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not cheating on you.”

“I’m not saying you are,” Oikawa said quietly in a voice he himself didn’t recognize. “But you’re hiding something from me, and after all we’ve been through together….”

“Just cut the crap, I know you don’t love me.”

It wasn’t an accusation. Just a statement. He didn’t even look particularly sad saying it, and that perhaps was the most painful thing about it.

“Iwa-chan…”

“Don’t get that look on your face, idiot.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “It’s just how it is, I can’t blame you.”

“It’s not that I don’t love you…”  
  
“Then?”

“I’m not in the state that’s capable of loving.”

The words left his mouth out of their own accord, but the moment he said, he knew it to be true.

“I’m getting better,” Oikawa continued. “The therapy helps, I’m even considering getting a job. It’s just… You’re always there for me. Supporting me, helping me… Iwa-chan, you’re my rock.”

“Your crutch.”

“…yes,” Oikawa admitted. “My crutch. And I want to be able to walk on my own.”

Iwaizumi nodded, and he knew he believed him. That made him feel slightly better.

“If you tell me to leave, I’ll respect your decision.”

_No._

_Please don’t leave._

“I want to know if I can be on my own,” he lied.

“Okay.”

The day continued as if the conversation had never happened. And Oikawa nearly forgot it did, until Iwaizumi started gathering up his stuff.

“I’ll pay my share of the rent of course,” he said lightly, as if he was talking about the weather. “I don’t want you to lose the flat because of me. I got a raise, so it won’t be too hard. Things will work out.”

Oikawa knew he was supposed to say something, but all words died in his mouth.

“If you need anything…” Iwaizumi continued. “And Oikawa, I mean anything… I’ll be staying at Kuroo and Kenma’s. Until I find a place for myself, that is.”

“Do they…”

Iwaizumi gave him a smile, a smile Oikawa had never seen before. It felt strange to discover that after such a long time of being around each other, there were still things about Hajime that could surprise him. Knowing each other as long as they did, it always felt like their bodies were one. That’s why it felt so wrong to see him smiling in front of him, but not _with him_ , within his body. The muscles of his own face remained uselessly unmoving.

“I talked to Kuroo about it some time ago. I knew this was coming. I know how stubborn you could get. That’s why I…”

Iwaizumi nearly said it.

Oikawa nearly said it, too.

That night Iwaizumi packed his suitcase and left. He didn’t try lecturing him. He didn’t look sad or worried. He didn’t leave him food for the next day and didn’t remind him about his doctor’s appointment. Him leaving that day wasn’t different than Iwaizumi saying goodbye after a sleepover. He even said See you, dumbass, the way he did, as if Oikawa was going to see him the next day at school.

It felt wrong to have someone leave without slamming the front door.

Leaving, living, it was all noiseless in Oikawa’s life.

Quiet, quiet like the void.

 

* * *

 

He spent two winters without Hajime at his side.

The roses, he found, were most beautiful in May, and Shinjuku Gyoen was just on his way to work. The roses were haunting him, but somehow became less scary, and he’d often stop to admire them, thinking how the roses in Hajime’s mother’s garden were much more beautiful, or so they seemed in the eyes of a child that now grew up to be another sentimental adult.

The summer that came that year drowned Tokyo in sweat, but Oikawa still spent most of his free time outside. June smelled of flowers and flowers smelled of longing, but Oikawa got used to being on his own.

He wasn’t alone. He’d still meet up with Kuroo and Kenma, sometimes even Hajime. He was curious about his life, and there was no awkwardness in their conversations.

He didn’t feel sad about what happened. It felt natural and for some insane reason, he never truly felt sad when he was without Hajime. Oikawa’s mom once said that whenever the two boys were apart, it was just a temporary phase, an in-between before another reunion.

It was just about waiting.

 

* * *

 

It was near the end of June when things began changing.

He was coming back with his groceries on a Sunday morning, when he run into his neighbour, a pretty young woman who lived there nearly as long as he did.

He said good morning and then furrowed his eyebrows, seeing a pile of boxes standing in the corridor.

“You’re moving out?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied kindly, putting a hand on her belly. “We’re expecting a baby and this flat isn’t big enough for the four of us, I’m afraid. We’re having twins.”

Oikawa smiled, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I’m not going to lie, we’re both terrified. But it’s exciting.”

“You’re leaving the flowers behind,” Oikawa noticed.

She gave him a surprised look. And then her mouth formed a big “o”, as if remembering something very important.

“Ah, yes! We’re thinking maybe they’ll bring luck to the new tenants. They’re very lucky flowers, you see.”

“What do you mean?”

“White camellias stand for waiting,” she explained. “And the yellow ones symbolise longing, so people assume they’re very sad flowers. But there’s nothing wrong in longing. There’s nothing wrong in waiting. After all, you only miss the good things, right? And I believe that if you wait long enough, they’ll come back to you.”

“Did they bring you luck?”

“My husband and I always wanted kids,” she said, suddenly looking very sad. “So when my doctor said I’m infertile, I was devastated. We both were. I lost all hope… and then, a miracle. I just had to wait long enough.”

She shook her head, as if waking up from a trance, “I’m sorry, what I said was very personal, it probably made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all!” Oikawa gave her a reassuring smile. “In fact…”

“Yes?”

“Do you mind if I take these flowers?”

 

* * *

 

His flat was warm, too warm, and the camellias nearly didn’t make it.

He would spend the entire day reading about flowers, calling his mother for advice, and eventually, they bloomed as beautiful as can be, and Oikawa felt happy.

Early summer was the time of tsuyu, the rainy season, and Oikawa would only go outside when it was absolutely necessary, with flowers as his only companions. It was during tsuyu that his nightmares started. His dreams were full flowers, and Hajime, and for some reason the two were always connected in his mind.

One night, he woke up hot and sweaty and even though he didn’t remember calling him, when he came around again in the morning, Hajime was there.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, even though he suspected the answer.

“You called me in the middle of the night,” Iwaizumi said, sitting on the edge of his bed. He felt his forehead and sighed. “You were running fever, so I gave you medications. You’re less hot now, so I guess it worked. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Oikawa said, interrupted by a cough. “What did I say?”

“You were talking nonsense, mostly. Something about the roses drowning in the Shinjuku garden.”

“I’m sorry, I think I had a nightmare.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “How did you get so sick anyway? I hope you’re not overworking yourself again.”

“It was raining pretty hard when I was coming back from work,” Oikawa recalled. “I must have… Shit, I need to call my…”

“Already called them. Don’t worry about anything, just rest, idiot.”

“I really like it when Iwa-chan calls me that.”

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows, but he dropped it since Oikawa didn't eleborate.

“Anyway, there’s a breakfast for you if…”

“Why did you leave?”

Hajime gave him a puzzled look, but when he sighed, Oikawa knew he had been expecting the question for some time now.

“I thought…”

“…that it was what I’ve wanted. And who gave you the right to decide that?”

Oikawa was shaking now. He didn’t remember standing up, but somehow he found him looking down on Hajime, who seemed torn between answering the question and trying to calm him down.

“You were there,” he said, his voice barely hiding the hurt that must have been inside him for a long time. “You could have stopped me. You didn’t.”

Before Oikawa could answer, Iwaizumi stood up and took Oikawa by the chin, so he couldn’t look away.

“I needed you to know that I trust you. That I trust you enough to let you be on your own. That if something had gone wrong, you would have called me. And you did, didn’t you?”

Oikawa closed his eyes.

“Why are you so calm?”

“What do you mean?”

“Fucking yell at me!” For the first time in his life, he felt as if he was completely losing it. He grabbed Hajime by the shirt and shook him hard, feeling even more furious when he didn’t react. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit for letting you go! Tell me you deserve better than me! Tell me I’m a shitty person! Call me a dumbass and punch me in the face! I trusted you! I trusted you to stop me if I ever crossed the line!”

“Calm down, you idiot!”

Iwaizumi pushed him away, panting hard, Oikawa’s plan to make him angry clearly succeeding.

“You have no idea what kind of thoughts I’ve had!” He yelled. “All fucking day, I only thought about you! What is he doing now, I’d ask myself? He’s better about eating right now, but only because I’m there to watch him. Will he remember to take his meds? What if takes too much, or if he decides to do something stupid, like start exercising again? What if he collapses? What if he can’t sleep?”

“And yet, you’d rather lose me than tell me I’ve made a mistake!”

It was then when he saw Hajime angry, truly angry, perhaps for the first time in his life.

“I already lost someone, don’t you forget.”

He could never forget.

There are emotions in this world that can’t be expressed with the biggest amount of words, and ones that could not be played by the world’s greatest actors.

The face of a son losing his mother was one of those expressions.

Oikawa was lucky, never having to watch somebody close to him fell very ill or pass away. All his grandparents were still alive and well, and his family prided itself in great health and long live span. He saw grief many times in the movies, he read about it in books, but he never actually felt it himself.

When Hajime’s mother died, Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to see him. He was scared of his grief, he was scared of catching the sadness, as if it were a fatal disease.

The first time he saw Iwaizumi since then, was at his mother’s funeral.

He didn’t remember the ceremony. When he entered the room, Hajime was sitting there by his father. He could only see the back of his head and a part of him was grateful, for not seeing the look on his face. But as if sensing his thoughts, Hajime turned around.

He hadn’t been crying, but his eyes were red as if all the tears stopped right there, not able to actually fall. But other than that, his face was expressionless.

Oikawa’s heart stopped.

All his thoughts simply vanished from his head and he was weakly aware of his limbs shaking, and he trembled as Hajime’s unseeing eyes stared at him, and those eyes were dead, like the eyes of a dead fish Oikawa saw as a little boy on the beach, and now there was somebody, his father Oikawa thought, leading him outside into the fresh air, and right there he fell to the ground into the cold snow, crying and shaking like somebody who was just born into this dark, cruel world.

“She’s gone, she’s gone…”

“Tooru, get up… Son, you have to get up…”

“The roses… I can’t go back, the smell is too horrible…”

It wasn’t his grief to feel, he was stealing Hajime’s day, Hajime’s thunder, Hajime’s sadness, Hajime’s mother, when his own was right inside probably worried sick.

Thief, thief, I’m nothing more than a thief and this time the words don’t make it outside, they’re stuck in his head like a broken record.

After all the guests went home after the wake, Oikawa was the only one to stay.

“Are you okay?” Hajime asked.

In all of this, there he was asking _him_ , of all people, if he was okay, and Oikawa had never felt more disgusted with himself.

“No.”

A disgusting answer.

Iwaizumi nodded and without another word, took him upstairs and they lied down, limbs tangled and breaths uneven, with Iwaizumi stroking Oikawa’s hair with a shaking hand, and once again Oikawa was a thief, stealing Hajime’s attention, Hajime’s touch and Hajime’s warmth.

“I need to take care of someone now, Tooru.”

The words were sudden and made Oikawa escape his own dark thoughts.

“Tooru… There was somebody I had to look after… And there is no… It’s over now… I’m going to take care of you, Tooru.”

He nodded and buried his face in Hajime’s shirt. It smelled familiar, a smell he could not describe but one that he knew to be unmistakably Hajime’s.

He could no longer smell the roses and he let himself fall asleep.

It was then that Oikawa learnt just how gentle Iwaizumi’s rough hands could get. He used to joke that his best friend’s hot and cold routine had gotten old a long time ago, but it was stranger now to have Hajime calm and collected.

They went to separate colleges, and he wasn’t able to see him again for a long time. But whenever they talked, Hajime would quote his mother and Oikawa’s heart would break each time he did.

Hajime had a tendency of forgetting his mother was dead. And Oikawa would never correct him. He needed that present tense just as much as Hajime.

He looked at Iwaizumi, angry, and grown up in front of him, and suddenly he couldn’t stop himself anymore. He was too tired of waiting.

He collapsed in his arms, crying and shaking, and Iwaizumi wordlessly took him to bed. They were silent for what seemed like hours, and Oikawa couldn’t calm down, as if all the tears he’d made himself swallow, came back to pour out of him and drown them both as revenge.

“I fell in love with the roses for you,” he sobbed. “I hate stupid flowers. They’re so unfair. And you’re unfair, Iwa-chan. You’re so fucking unfair.”  
  
And then, as if changing his mind:  
  
"I love you, I love you, and I'll love the stupid roses for you too, please believe me."

And Iwaizumi laughed, kissing his hair, and then every inch of his face – his forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips that tasted of salt and what had to be snot, but he didn’t mind and between the kisses, he said:

“You’re the ugliest crier I know.”

And then, quieter, as if a part of him didn’t want Oikawa to hear:

“Why did I fall in love with such a nasty idiot?”

 

* * *

  
Love always seemed ugly to Oikawa.

Love is needed in our world. It’s love that gets cities built. It’s love that makes the world progress. Love is needed to build relations between human beings. People need love to make families, to build harmony. It’s harmony that’s needed, not love. And like many things, it soon stops being beautiful. Love is a necessity and it goes away when it’s no longer needed.

It was during the months without Iwa-chan that he started questioning himself.

In the end, he realized, he didn’t need Iwaizumi’s love. Just like Iwaizumi never needed his.

He didn’t need him to get up in the morning. He didn’t need him to eat, sleep or function. He didn’t need him in the simplest of meanings, just because he wasn’t necessary for his survival. And yet, he _wanted_ him to be there. For no reason at all.

So perhaps, there was another way of looking at it, one that felt less pessimistic.

To live is to exchange.

Oikawa had expected that if someday he finally grew to love somebody, he’d be able to tell.

For people, who aren’t used to caring about others, being aware of loving someone is the hardest thing. And they often have problems believing that someone may love then in return. They don’t understand the exchange. And yet, they love just as much, perhaps even harder than those who easily show their warmth towards others.

In the end, Oikawa too, was fooled by the idea that love is something absolute, that it was unmistakeable and simple, and that it was to be the only thing in his life that would matter.

But loving Hajime was different.

It wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t fate. They weren’t soulmates tangled up in their red strings, suffocating with what their destines had in store.

He didn’t love Iwa-chan since the very first encounter of their fingertips. He didn’t love him for his smile. He didn’t love him for picking him up when the rest of the world lost his interest in him. If someone asked him, he’d have to say that actually he loved him for no reason at all.

But more importantly, he _grew_ to love Iwaizumi Hajime.

It was a process. It took him a long time and it wasn’t easy, or pretty, or romantic.

Had it been a little more obvious, he would probably only doubt himself a little bit more. But no, it was because it took him nearly all his life, he could trust his feelings now.

Nothing about loving Iwa-chan was obvious.

He loved him for all the things that weren’t easy, and felt selfish, and wrong. He loved Iwaizumi because it was the irresponsible thing to do. And there was a shadow of anxiety whenever they kissed, a slight trembling of fingertips with every touch that made it all a little bit too exciting.

You can and you will get used to loving someone. You will get used to caring about them and you will get used to being cared about. It’s an inevitable fact of life. You will get used to exchanging love. And at some point, you’re bound to take it for granted.

It was _because_ he loved Iwaizumi Hajime his entire life, it had taken him such a long time to fall in love with him. It felt ridiculous in his own mind, but deep within his soul Oikawa knew it to be true.

But most of all, loving him was the most natural thing he could possibly do.

 

* * *

 

“I started seeing therapist,” Iwaizumi told him one day.

“When?”

“Since before I left,” Oikawa’s heart started beating faster at the realization. _Oh_. “Kuroo convinced me, but he also felt like you should know. And I know, I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to think I needed a manual to handle you. I went there for myself. I guess there was a lot of issues I ignored for too long, and I ended up hurting both of us.”

_You didn’t hurt me, Iwa-chan._

_You never did._

“It’s okay. You’ve put up with my sadness for a long time.”

Iwa-chan shook his head.

“You still don’t understand. Oikawa… you’ve put up with it your entire life. For once, let someone else help you. My mom used to say that a lot.”

Oikawa bit his lip. He could say many things but in the end, they’d always be selfish in the light of Iwaizumi’s words.

“Iwa-chan didn’t mention his mother in a long time,” he said eventually.

“You’re right, I haven’t. I guess I… I learnt to trust my own words.”

“I don’t like my job,” Oikawa blurted out.

“Okay.”

It became easier to share his fears with Iwaizumi. They still didn’t talk as much as they probably should, but things got better.

“I want to become a professional coach, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi smiled at that and Oikawa already knew he’d be the one person that wouldn’t make fun of him.

“So let’s make it happen.”

Oikawa kissed him then, and he leaned in whispering something to Iwaizumi’s ear. Iwaizumi whispered it back.

There were more important promises than I love you they could say to each other now.

* * *

  
The camellias withered the following year, and there was nothing Oikawa could do to save them.

Perhaps, they already did their job and there was no more luck they had to offer. Butthis time Oikawa didn’t feel sad at all. He threw them away on the day Hajime moved back in, already planning to buy new plants the next day.

“They bloomed so beautifully last year,” he complained to his mother on the phone. “I’m not sure what happened.”

“…during the summer?”

“Yes.”

She went quiet for a second, and then she cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Tooru, camellias don’t bloom during the summer. They prefer slightly colder temperatures, so they only bloom during winter and spring.”

“I don’t understand, I swear they…”

“I’m sure you just mixed it up.”

_To live is to exchange._

“I’m sorry about the flowers,” Iwaizumi said. “It seems they were the only ones you didn’t hate.”

“It wasn’t the flowers I hated,” Oikawa explained. “But they way people would just get rid of them when they stopped pleasing the eye always bothered me. It reminded me about the unkindness of this world.”

“Did the world stop being unkind then?”

“No. We’re all unkind in a way. If we’re not unkind to others, we end up being unkind to ourselves. Sometimes both. But you can’t escape neglecting something or somebody at some point in your life. That’s the lesson I’ve learnt, I suppose.”

They both went quiet at that, and Oikawa opened the window, letting in warm summer breeze. He looked at the sky briefly and thought about the roses in the Shinjuku garden. The rainy season would begin again, and he wanted to see them before then.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hm?”

Oikawa smiled taking Hajime’s hand in his, and he squeezed Iwaizumi’s fingers gently, kneeling in front of him.

“Let’s be kind to each other.”

It changed, the way Hajime was looking at him.

There was something about this look that felt familiar, and when Oikawa thought hard about it, it wasn’t that much different from the way he was looking at him before. But this time he could _feel_ this gaze, feel it under his own skin, and maybe Hajime’s look hadn’t changed at all, what changed was the way it was reflected in Oikawa’s eyes. It was something invisible, and yet he knew Iwa-chan felt it too from the way he smiled at him, as he kneeled on the floor next to Oikawa, and kissed his forehead.

“Let’s be kind to each other,” Iwaizumi repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of things happened since I published "Pluto."
> 
> While "Pluto" took only a month to write, "Saturn" was something I worked on for months. Scenes were added or deleted, for a moment I even started doubting whether I'll be able to publish it. It was my own fault for making this work very personal, and at some point my own illness got worse and made me useless.
> 
> Before I talk about "Saturn", let me just say I've never expected the amazing feedback that "Pluto" received. It blew my mind and I spent a month crying over comments, and I still tear up whenever there's a new one. So thank you to everyone who's read it, left a kudos or a comment, honestly, even if you didn't say anything, but still spent time to read my work, it means the world to me. I could never express my gratitude, so I inserted bluebells into the beginning of my story. Make sure to check the Japanese symbolism of flowers.
> 
> I'm not sure if people like my ramblings, if you do not, then please forgive me, I tend to talk a lot. I decided to change the focalizer for Saturn, therefore this time we see a lot through Tooru’s eyes. I haven’t said that before, but these stories are meant to be a reflection of their minds, though I wouldn't exactly call it a stream of consciousness. But since they’re memories, there’s not a lot of detail concerning the plot itself and there bits and pieces lacking. So while Iwaizumi’s story was a more or less realistic description of what happened, Oikawa’s narrative is more fairy-tale like. So forgive Tooru and forgive me for the perhaps unnecessary romanticism. We’re not very rational souls, you see, despite of what Tooru wants you to think of him.
> 
> I played around the flower meaning here. While white roses are usually associated with purity in Western culture, I’ve read that in Japan they’re more likely to be associated with devotion and innocence. I feel it fits the theme of the story nicely. And of course, roses are the continuation of my Little Prince allegory. Oikawa has always been a rose, and his struggle to love the roses, was also a struggle to love himself.
> 
> In a way, this story is still about expectations. Things we expect our lives to become, things we're told to expect, the feelings we expect to find in ourselves. And of course both Tooru and Hajime want to live up to someone’s expectations. Iwaizumi wants to live according to his mother’s law, and be the man she could be proud of. But Oikawa wants to be worth Iwaizumi. It’s not even about love, it’s about Tooru himself. He sees Iwaizumi as someone pure and kind, and he admires it a lot since he doesn’t see himself in that way. Mothers are also important, and I think they can be associated with law in general. Oikawa’s mom is a lawyer, symbolising a sort of rational approach, an order established by men. Iwaizumi’s mom symbolises the heart, since her laws come from within. They come from her own experience and how she believes one should live in this world. And that's what Hajime told us in "Pluto."
> 
> But Hajime's mother's death affects both of them. If you're wondering about the timeline, then Hajime's mother died soon after her son's high school graduation. I think you can find hints of it in "Pluto", but I didn't want to make it too obvious then. Her death is the reason why both of them change; Hajime becomes calmer and Oikawa stops being just "a silly guy". The white roses stand for Oikawa's loss of innocence, and I think it's funny, but in a way we find out more about her from Oikawa than Iwaizumi. But as I said, the series was meant to show their minds, and it was something that Hajime just couldn't make himself think about. It was his darkest secret and he wouldn't let me tell you.
> 
> I know it doesn't seem that way, but there's a lot of light in this one as well. The longest day of the year is in June after all, and Saturn is one of the brightest objects in our solar system.
> 
> And I hope you don't mind Kuroo and Kenma in this particular story. They were so much fun to write, and they were necessary guides for Tooru and Hajime's journey. I'm considering another part of this series with them as the main characters, so don't worry, they were much more than just a plot device.
> 
> Of course, the story was inspired by Sleeping At Last's "Saturn'. If you don't know the song, make sure to check it out, the lyrics are very much connected to the plot. There's an entire playlist I have for this series, so feel free to ask me on Tumblr if you're curious!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! And if you think the story wasn't worth your time, I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. It never meant to be this long, but I'm a horrible storyteller.


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